


And You, Darling, Are Mine

by KelpieMomma



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:21:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27572200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelpieMomma/pseuds/KelpieMomma
Summary: Geralt gets a mysterious passenger after a hunt. A mysterious passenger that wants brains and calls him 'darling.'Can be read as pre-relationship or as gen, hence the double tagging.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28





	And You, Darling, Are Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Look. I love AUs. I love the Venom movie. I thought this would be an intriguing idea. I do have a smol idea for host!Jaskier and symbiote!Geralt, where all of the Witchers are symbiotes and after losing his last host and searching for the next, Geralt accidentally gets into Jaskier but... we'll see if that ever comes to light.

Geralt’s medallion vibrated only briefly- a motion there and gone in the span of a heartbeat. He considered, at first, that it meant something had come into the range and then immediately left, but given that he had just finished killing something mage-created that was... possible but unlikely. By all accounts, no mage had been seen around these parts for at least a decade. What he’d killed had been abandoned long ago.

He gave it a moment of thought before the dripping of blood and gore distracted him. He needed a bath and a nap. The battle hadn’t been too difficult but it had been incredibly messy. Roach had been left in the town, Geralt unwilling to risk his mount and friend for a hunt on an unknown creature. It’d been a good thing, too, with how many _limbs_ the thing had possessed, coming out of various points of the body. They had shifted with each movement, occasionally taking the form of a claw or a mouth of fangs. He was glad the thing was dead now.

There was a brief, shuddery flicker of _something_ in his mind. If he had been less tired, less in a hurry to get back and get clean, and if it had been _stronger_ perhaps he’d have noticed it. He didn’t, and kept on moving. When he returned to the inn he’d managed to get a room in and procured himself a bath, Geralt was surprised to find that all of his injuries had already healed. Witcher healing was advanced, yes, but this... was abnormally fast. Writing it off as good fortune, wounds less severe than he’d thought, Geralt slipped into the bath and... fell asleep.

When he woke, he was in bed. Immediately he was tense, wary and prepared for anything to happen. His eyes opened up and he was moving into a crouch, hand already preparing _aard_ , There was no one within the room, nothing out of place. He hesitantly, slowly, relaxed himself. He was not injured. He was in the same room he had fallen asleep in, just not the same _position_. Had he sleepwalked? Had someone moved him in his sleep?

Neither answer seemed likely, nor possible. He had never before walked in his sleep, and he was much too heavy - as well as being too light of a sleeper - for anyone to have come into his room without him knowing.

_‘I must’ve been more tired than I thought,’_ Geralt thought, _‘to not remember getting into bed.’_

Stomach rumbling, Geralt packed up his things and left the room. He needed to collect payment and get going.

\---

Collecting payment had been easier than normal. Geralt had barely taken a look at the head of the town before the man, who’d been tightly cordial before, offered him a broad grin and the money.

“Who knew a Witcher could play a tune like that, eh?” the man prompted. Geralt kept a stoic expression, despite the odd thrum of _thrill_ and _pleasure_ running through him at the words, and the human’s quickly turned flat as well. He gave a nervous chuckle and handed over the coins. “If you ever feel like returning, I encourage you to. Our town could use some jigs like the ones you played last night, Witcher.”

Geralt grunted, frowning now. Played last night? He’d been asleep. In a tub. And then his bed, apparently.

He didn’t argue, though. He turned and left instead. There was no use arguing about where he’d been with a human- he just wanted to leave.

\---

Collecting Roach was... _weird_. Geralt had starved before, several times, and not _once_ had he ever considered eating his horse to get by. He knew of Witchers that had, of course, but Roach was _Roach_. It was hard to find a mount as clever as her, with sturdy legs and good confirmation and temperament. She could be stingy and stubborn but she was a mare, and a red one at that, and Geralt had never wanted an easy horse.

And yet when he had gone to get her his stomach _growled_ loudly. Looking at her barrel had him licking his lips as he gathered her tack.

_Hungry._

The word popped into his head, and he stopped. Perhaps he should eat before he left- he felt as though he hadn’t eaten for _days_.

“Sorry girl.” Geralt grunted as he put Roach’s tack away. The mare pinned her ears at him and he accepted that as _next time you get me out, make sure we’re leaving_.

\---

He returned after breakfast, feeling only _slightly_ less hungry. No matter how much food he had shoved down his gullet, he still felt _starved_. It didn’t make sense- he hadn’t had a difficult fight the day before, hadn’t even needed to take any potions to win. He frowned as he collected Roach’s tack again, for real this time, and then grunted in surprise when Roach _snapped her teeth at him_ as he went to put her halter on.

“Roach!” He admonished, staring at the mare. Sure, she had nipped at him before, but it was always when he’d pushed her hard and she demanded rest, or when she needed food or water and needed him to know she was uncomfortable. This had been much more aggressive than her usual behavior. The pair stared at each other, and Roach looked earless for a good minute. Geralt gave her time. When her ears were up again, forward and alert, he slipped her halter on and tacked her up quickly.

Whatever had gotten into her appeared to have left just as quickly, as once they were on the road she moved off as easily as anything. Perhaps she was just grumpy with him for getting her ready to go earlier, and then putting her back.

That must be it.

\---

It was days before Geralt realized he was no longer alone. He found himself hunting more than usual, feeling absolutely _starved_ , and when he hunted for food he nearly always felt the temptation to simply eat it raw. Though he had done it a handful of times, it was only _seldomly_ that he allowed himself to not cook his meat. Vesemir had lectured him time and time again that _just because we can eat meat raw doesn’t mean we should, we may not be human but we’re not animals either, boy!_ Eating meat raw was a state of emergency sort of deal, and yet.

The deer he had hunted looked _tempting_ as he gutted it. The blood that hit the earth made his stomach sink, as though he’d let something go to waste. Cooking the meat made him feel slightly nauseous, which was new, and there was a very, _very_ brief fear of _fire_ tightening his gut each time he used igni. He wondered if something had happened to him when he killed that beast, if he’d been affected by it somehow. He’d passed a handful of other travelers, though, and he’d never felt the desire to eat _them_ , despite humans having been the thing’s main source of food.

It took three and a half deer in the course of a handful of days before Geralt felt truly filled again. Several times in those days he’d found himself looking at Roach, thinking about how much meat he could get off of her, and then found himself _horrified_ that he was considering it. It wasn’t enough for him to seek help- though if he’d actually killed his mount he would have.

\---

Looking back, Geralt was surprised it took as long as it did for the _passenger_ he’d acquired to speak up. He was cleaning himself in a river, cool and deep, when a cracking branch had him freezing. He was looking up by the time he heard several arrows fly, too many for him to avoid. Training had him throwing himself into the river, hoping the water would slow the arrows enough for him to be in the clear. He heard several things hit against something firm, though, and when he looked there was-

something hazy in front of him, melting away, and not a single arrow penetrating his flesh at all. Geralt broke the water in time for another volley to come at him an a blue _thing_ , a _tendril_ , emerging from his body in time to catch them all. Geralt and the bandits surrounding him both stared at the new limb in shock.

_So sorry about that, darling,_ a voice echoed lightly in his head, _I had hoped to introduce myself better but this will have to do, I suppose._

And then, he- wasn’t in control anymore. His body was covered in blue, the bandits were _screaming_ and fleeing, and his body was- chasing, grabbing, killing, he _opened his mouth and-_

“No!” He exclaimed. Forced his will to the front, the bandit in his hand dropping to the ground, pants wet.

_**Excuse** you, I’m hungry._ The _thing_ in his mind pouted. _Deer are all well and good, dear, but nothing beats a good brain. Please, just one? Please Geralt?_

“No.” he repeated firmly, mind racing. Thoughts scattered across like a fast moving stream over rocks. A doppler? Mind control? A dream? Was he under the control of a mage?

The bandit moved, and before he could stop _it_ another blue tendril emerged from his arm and removed the man’s head. And Geralt... felt less hungry.

Though he did feel sick.

_Sorry about that, darling, but needs must and all that. You wouldn’t let us eat that devil you call a horse, though, so this is the next best thing._ Instead of vanishing into his arm, the tendril-- gathered. It sprouted two white, angled shapes like _eyes_ and slowly a mouth full of jagged teeth emerged as well, splitting the facsimile of a _face_ into a wide grin.

Yet, somehow, there was an innocence to it.

“Who- what- how-?!” Geralt demanded. Words, for the first time, flowed too quickly to his mouth and got stuck. The blue head chuckled and bumped against Geralt’s- gently, but he still finched away from it.

_I am Jaskier. And you, darling, are_ **_mine._ **

**Author's Note:**

> Find the rebagelable one on tunglr here: https://kelpiemomma.tumblr.com/post/634821241089523713/geralts-medallion-vibrated-only-briefly-a-motion !!!


End file.
